


Rum Cake

by PhantomCookie



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Caryl, Darol, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-06-07 01:03:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6778717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhantomCookie/pseuds/PhantomCookie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carol procures a bottle of rum to makes some cake, and enlists Daryl to help her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in the time jump of Season 6 getting closer to when it picks back up in 6x10. I wanted to make a plausible reason why Daryl and Carol are distant in the second half of season 6, and maybe a reason she ended clinging to Tobin. 
> 
> If you like symbology the drinks are symbolic. The rum is the mask Carol wears that makes her feel better for a bit but it ultimately bad for her. The water is what they have, and it's good and fine and bland. the milk is symbolic of what they would like the have in the relationship.

“Daryl, could you come over later I need you for something,” Carol said, dropping her voice conspiratorially so that Rick wouldn't hear. Daryl furrowed his brow, but she noticed and added, “Don't worry, it's nothing bad...” and she winked at him.

Rick glanced at them and raised an eyebrow, but continued, “As I was saying, we will need to find some more sustainability as far as food goes. I will be going out on runs with Daryl this week to try to scout out more food, clothes, whatever we can get our hands on to bring into the community to bolster the supply. We're doing alright, but I'd like to be doing better.”

“When?” Daryl asked Carol.

“Tonight.”

 

When Carol didn't answer the door, Daryl entered her house tentatively, calling her name, but receiving no answer. He cocked his head to listen, and could hear her singing in the kitchen. His mouth curved up into a sideways smile, at the happy sound.

It made Daryl feel good when she needed him for something. He used to take pride in the fact that he was her protector, but she could take care of herself now. He was very proud of her, and it made him worry about her less, but he did tend to feel pretty useless to her nowadays. She rarely asked him for anything, and she had plenty of people who loved her around the town.

He used to provide for Carol, but now she had access to anything she could want in the way of food, and other amenities. The tables had turned and she was taking care of him a hell of a lot more than he was taking care of her. She made sure to keep him fed, and she cleaned and mended his clothes. So, when she asked for anything, he would always come.

Usually it was something Carol needed him to repair, or sometimes something that was too heavy for her to lift. Once she had a mouse trapped under a bowl that she wanted him to dispose of. By 'dispose of' Daryl learned that she wanted him to very gently place it outside, which of course he obliged. It resulted in the mouse getting loose, and they had to hunt the damn thing until well after midnight. Finally, after much cursing, Lester was captured and safely released into he night. In the hours stalking the thing she had named it Lester.

Carol could be playful at times but more often lately her eyes were dark and her demeanor sad, especially this week. They hadn't been spending hardly any time together and when they did she was subdued. It was a heavy silence that he wanted to lift, but he'd always been shit at conversation, so the it grew malignantly between them. For Daryl, it was a huge relief when she winked at him. It brought him back to better days, and gave him hope.

Daryl stepped into the kitchen, startling Carol. She stopped singing, looking embarrassed.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

She smiled at him sweetly, “It's okay. I didn't hear you with the music.”

Daryl couldn't help smiling back at her, and he averted his eyes to the CD player which he hadn't noticed playing softly until then. It was playing the song that Carol had been singing. He sat down on a stool at the kitchen counter, curious to find out what his task was, but knowing she would tell him. She always took the lead when talking was involved.

Carol didn't say anything else, however, but continued working. She was baking something - it seemed like many somethings. Daryl enjoyed watching her work in the kitchen. He remembered the perfect home-life he dreamed of having when he was a kid – the kind you might see on TV. He didn't like Alexandria, particularly, or the get-ups Carol wore nowadays (and yes, she was even wearing an apron), but there was something about sitting in the kitchen with her that made him feel domesticated, and maybe this is the way life should be. It was comforting.

“Ya making cookies...” he asked hopefully, breaking the silence.

“No,” Carol said, “but, I did make some earlier, of course, I saved you some. They're your favorites.”

Daryl grunted in appreciation, but he was happier than he let on - more for the fact that she thought of him than for the treat itself. She handed him a plate of three cookies and set out a glass of water with them.

“It would be better if it was milk,” she mused. ”How long has it been since we've had milk?”

“Long time,” Daryl agreed.

“I miss it, you know, I miss so many stupid things,” Carol said, frowning.

She was getting sad, and Daryl really wanted to keep the mood light, “Maybe we'll find a cow while we're out, ya never know. I'll look for one.”

“Ha,” Carol said knowing how scarce animals were, “Daryl Dixon, you get me a cow and you will be my favorite person.”

Daryl blushed slightly, but turned his attention to the treat, “ 's good.”

“Thanks,” Carol waived her hand and brushing off the compliment, “I'm sure you're wondering why I wanted you here...” She popped down to rummage for something in a cabinet, and popped up again with a bottle, giving an odd grin.

“Rum?” Daryl asked. Finding any alcohol was rare nowadays.

Carol put on her conspiratorial voice again, and whispered, “I'm making rum cake”

“Is it a secret?” Daryl matched her whisper, playing along. He had no idea what was going on or why they were whispering.

Carol laughed. “No, I'm actually making a few of these cakes for the gathering we are doing tomorrow, and guess what! I've managed to procure a bottle of rum.”

Daryl rolled his eyes. He would go to this thing _for her_ but he hated town gatherings. She had never asked him to help in the kitchen, not that he minded, “Ya need me to make cakes?”

“Yes, well...and” Carol shrugged, getting out a couple of glasses, “I thought you could help me drink the rum.”

Daryl laughed, “You're drunk now, ain't ya? What are you going to put in them cakes?”

“I waited for you, didn't want to drink alone, it's too sad,” she poured 2 juice glasses about halfway full and slid one toward him, “and I'll still put rum in the cakes. It doesn't take much. People don't have to know that.”

“Thought it was gonna be another Lester,” Daryl admitted.

Carol giggled and lifted her glass, “To Lester...”

Daryl was in a tough position where he didn't want to dampen the mood, but thought drinking would probably not be in his best interest, he slid the glass away, “better not...”

“Suit yourself,” Carol said wearily but she didn't question him. In her heart she knew why he didn't want to drink. They were cut from the same cloth, both had been abused by drunks. Tonight, she was feeling sad and wanted to drown her sorrows. She drank to the bottom of her glass. “Just so you know, I'm going to drink your share.”

Daryl didn't want her to be disappointed with him, “I can still help with them cakes. You won't be alone.”

She looked at him with sad eyes, but a pasted on a smile, “I would like that. Truly. I love to bake you know.”

Daryl did know, but he also knew she was going through something horrible. He wished he was the type of man who knew the right words to say to make everything good, but he was a man of action not words. He wished he could tell her something that would make her feel better – even for tonight, but it would just be comforting lies, and he couldn't bring himself to do that. Maybe if he hadn't been out there in the harsh reality of it all he could tell her what she needed to hear. He felt she had been slipping further and further from him, and he was mutely watching her slide away.

“What do I do?” he asked opening his palms to her. He was going to try. He wanted to spend time with her, hopefully showing her that he cares. “Don't know much about baking, but I figure I can learn how to do this.”

She smiled genuinely then, “Do you want an apron,” she teased, “I have an extra one.”

Daryl raised his eyebrows and shook his head. No, definitely not, but he chuckled also, and noticed she had started to drink his glass of rum, “Just here to read the directions for you when you've gone cross-eyed” he nodded to her drink.

Carol giggled, “Well, come here, then, you are going to get your hands dirty.”

 

They worked together, Carol showing him little tricks. It wasn't _that_ difficult, but Daryl also realized that it wasn't as easy as he thought, either, because she had little substitutions for all of the ingredients that she didn't have. Daryl nodded, and did as instructed, picking it up quickly. The truth was that he was loving being included in her little world.

Carol was definitely tipsy, possibly drunk. She was giggling, being silly, and she was getting very hands on with their lesson. Daryl was intoxicated by her, his skin buzzed with her closeness, and her little caresses – which seemed to increase the more she drank. She was leaning into him showing him something about leveling off the ingredients as you measured them, but he wasn't listening because he could smell her shampoo, and god she was close, and warm. Daryl continued to work trying to not let her see that his hands were trembling as he measured the ingredients onto the tiny spoons.

“Oh wait!” Carol said grabbing his hand to stop him, “No, I already did that one.”

Daryl didn't move his hand only looked at her. Her bright blue eyes met his and she was suddenly very aware of their hands touching, and pulled back from him, grabbing the bottle of rum and pouring herself another glass, which she drank all at once. She started to pour another one.

“Woah, there,” Daryl said sliding the glass away from her. “Easy.”

“OK, Dad,” Carol admonished.

“Pfft,” Daryl said, “Someone has to stop you. You are gonna have a hell of a hangover at the damn gathering tomorrow.”

“Better get those cakes in the oven,” Carol said. setting the timer, but letting Daryl do all of the work. When Daryl closed up the oven she was standing right behind him and he jumped. She leaned into him, “thank you.”

“Yer welcome,” he managed.

Carol made a very serious face, “Daryl Dixon, I have a very important question to ask you.” She was slurring her words a bit. Daryl noticed, not sure if it was cute or dangerous.

She touched her fingertips to Daryl's chest making him feel nervous. The warmth radiating off of her skin was going straight to the core of him, and the air in the room felt thick. He couldn't choke out a response so he just waited, fixated on her eyes, not breathing. This was definitely dangerous.

“What is your middle name?” she let her hand trail down and then back up his chest, punctuating the question with a little tap, “You've never told me.”

Carol rested her open palm right above his heart and Daryl wondered if she could feel how fast it was beating. She looked up at with with a teasing smirk, and he wanted to kiss her so badly. He was not sure if she knew what she was doing to him with her flirting, or if she was too drunk to notice.

“John,” he said softly, unable to move forward, but unwilling to pull away.

“That's nice” it was almost a whisper. She leaned in playing with the edges of his vest.

“Not too nice, it was my old man's name. I've always hated my name,” Daryl bitterly admitted. Carol didn't respond to his harsh answer, so Daryl tried to think of something to break the silence, “I don't know yours either. Yer middle name, I mean.”

“My middle name is Sophia,” Carol said quietly, letting her hand drop. She stood quietly for a minute as the mood shifted. She rested her forehead on his heart, and a moment later she was weeping softly. This sudden shift in the conversation surprised Daryl. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen her cry. Even when she recounted to him what happened when the wolves attacked she just seemed hollow, but never shed a tear.

Daryl wrapped an arm around her, pulling her in close, her tears wetting his shirt. She collapsed into him, and he held her tightly as she sobbed. He hadn't had much comfort in his life, and hoped he was doing right by her. She started repeating, “I'm sorry” over and over again, like a prayer.

“It's ok,” Daryl said, “Don't say that, it's _okay_.”

“Nothing's okay,” she wailed, and continued to sob into him.

Daryl pulled his rag out of his back pocket and gave it to as a handkerchief. She clutched it tightly and looked up at him, “It's been 500 days.”

Daryl wasn't sure, but he thought knew, “since Sophia...”

“Yes,” she said pulling away from him, and pacing as she spoke, “Maybe not exactly. But I keep a journal and I mark the days, sometimes I might miss a day, here or there. I know it's been at least 500 days, since...my baby...”

Her eyes filled up with tears again and he felt absolutely helpless. He hated himself for not having been able to return her baby girl back to her. If anyone deserved happiness it was Carol. Daryl tried to pull her in again but she walked away and picked up the glass of rum. Her hand was shaking as she took a sip.

“I'm sorry,” she said again. “It's hit me very hard this week being 500 days, and with everything that happened when, when they attacked...and the walker herd...and Sam...”

Daryl's heart sank knowing he had not been there to protect her when the Wolves had attacked. He wished beyond anything he had come back right away to help her. Carol had saved the community, but at what cost to herself? He went cold thinking about what could have happened.

Daryl remembered the dread that washed over him when he realized that Alexandria had been overrun with walkers after he finally made it home – home to her – not knowing if she was alive. He could still feel the suffocating numbness that set in, as he went through the motions and up until he laid eyes on her. He was so relieved, but then when he went to her a part of her was missing. Every time he was reunited with her something else was taken away from Carol.

When Daryl tried talking to her, she had been cold to him, and he thought maybe she blamed him for being gone so long, because he surely blamed himself. Lately, he never knew what Carol he was going to get. Sometimes she was his Carol - warm, friendly, and kind. Sometimes she was detached and far away. Mostly, she was different - she acted friendly but there was an edge to her that Daryl didn't like. She wasn't really there, and he knew she was keeping things from him.

Daryl wanted to tell her that she needed to cry, needed to be in the moment and not somewhere far away. He wanted to let her know that he would get through this with her. He was scared, too, but they could be scared together, but he couldn't find the right way to say it. He glanced over at her and she was back drinking again. He sighed.

“Stop,” he intoned. He stepped toward her and took the drink from her hand but it slipped and he couldn't catch it. The glass fell to the ground, shattering, “Shit.”

She moved to clean it up, and Daryl stopped her, “No.” He lifted her up onto the stool he had been sitting on earlier, and put his cup of water into her palm, “Drink this.”

Carol sipped the water, and Daryl swept up the mess. She was very quiet as he worked. When he had thrown the glass shards in the trash he came back and sat on the stool next to hers, “You okay?”

She didn't answer. The minutes suffered by. He fidgeted in his chair biting his nails nervously, and she stared sadly into her water. Silence did not usually bother Daryl, especially with Carol, but this was heavy, and was not settling comfortably around them like usually it did. Finally, she spoke.

“When everything happened, I didn't know if you were dead,” she said flatly. The thought echoed exactly how Daryl's feelings about her. She continued, “You go out, and I never know if you are going to come back.”

“I came back,” Daryl said looking at her earnestly, trying to assure her. He had not told Carol the full extent of what he'd gone through on the road, half of which had been the anguish of trying to get to her. She couldn't hold his gaze and looked away.

“Everyone dies, and I can't stop it,” she stared at the wall, talking in a haunted voice.

Daryl was scared of her confession, and it was not as if he could argue. He'd felt the same thing. He had to watch while many of his friends and family were killed, and he hadn't been able to do a damn thing about it. Carol had almost been taken from him too many times. These fears were always in the back of his mind.

“I'm not sure if you are really here, or if I'm really here.” she said cryptically.

Daryl was terrified. He knew that the alcohol was lowering her inhibitions and allowing her to open herself up to him, and what she was saying was scaring the hell out of him. He took her hand, interlacing her fingers with his own, causing her to meet his eyes, “I'm really here. You are here. We are surviving - together.” He squeezed her hand tightly to emphasize this point, but she looked away from him again.

“Please...” he begged her. Didn't even know what he was asking for, but he just wanted her to be her again, he touched her chin so that she would look at him, “Carol, please.”

When she turned to face him tears were welling up in her eyes again, “I don't know if I want to be able to feel love anymore. It hurts. I don't want to care.”

Before he could say anything the tears started falling again and she leaned in, tilting her head to the side, and kissed him. He was not expecting it but it was something he wanted for so long and he leaned into it, melting into her soft lips. She tasted rummy and sweet. He wanted to pull her close to him, and his hand involuntarily slid across her chin into her hair, running his fingers through its silky softness. He knew that this couldn't happen right now, she just told him she didn't want to love. She was drunk, and in tears. He was aching with desire, and despair. He tensed up, and pulled away reluctantly.

She looked at him, with confusion, and leaned back in to kiss him again but he stood up. Carol looked stricken. The hurt flashed in her eyes.

“Nah, Carol, not like this,” Daryl stammered, “ya need-”

“Like you know what I need,” she cut him off angrily. She massaged her temples, “I'm tired of this, Daryl, I'm just so tired.”

He tried to put a reassuring hand on her shoulder and she shrugged it off.

“What are we even doing, Daryl?” she asked.

He didn't know what was the right answer, if there even was a right answer. He was in love with her. He had figured that much about but he was so afraid to tell her. People in his life always used what you love as a weapon. What if someone tried to take her away from him? He didn't think Carol would purposefully hurt him, but if she didn't feel the same and he knew that for sure, he didn't think he would have a reason to wake up in the morning.

He sure as hell wasn't going to take advantage of her being drunk, and depressed. In the back of his mind he also worried about darker things. Things he pushed away, because he didn't want to even consider that she didn't love him back. He didn't want to think she was too far gone, and grasping for anything. These things were nagging at him, but he pushed them down.

“I'm just tryin'. I'm tryin' to help...” Daryl said tentatively.

“Maybe you should just leave,” Carol was staring away from him again, her eyes burning.

“Ya shouldn't be alone,” Daryl persisted, “Maybe you can lie down. I can finish up in here.”

Carol said, “I can't stand the way you are making me feel right now.”

“The way I'm making ya feel?” Daryl was taken aback, and growled, “Ya think it's OK to make me leave, to try an' run away from me again? You act all phony with your fake smile, and them outfits. I don't fit into your picture perfect life so you throw me out of it!”

“You know why I try to fit in around here!”

“Like hell I do!” Daryl was angry. “At first, yeah. But, everyone knows what you did when...” Daryl trailed off not wanting to reference the wolves again “....when everything happened. Everyday yer still putting on a show. Or maybe it's not a show, maybe this is who you really are, and I never knew you at all.”

Daryl had revealed more of how he felt then he ever meant to. He looked down at his feet, wondering how she was going to react. He hated that they were fighting but it was better than the false reality they'd been existing in for the past few months.

“Who said you ever knew me, Daryl?” Carol shouted at him, “You don't know all of the horrible things that I've done.”

“You ain't a bad person,” Daryl said, “You need to stop lying to yerself, and you need to stop hiding things from me.”

“I'm not-”

Daryl cut her off, “Yer lying to me. How do you think that makes me feel? And I take it! I take it from _you_ , and I wouldn't take that from Rick or Glenn or anyone else in this goddam shit hole.”

“I'm not lying to you.” Carol didn't look him in the eyes. “You are the one always pushing me away, Daryl, and I can't stand it anymore, so don't give me that shit.”

“I wasn't pushing you away, I wasn't tryin' to make ya mad,” Daryl felt defeated. He was disappointed in himself because he didn't want to be the person to make her feel unwanted.

“I'm not mad, just hurt. please go,” she said. When he didn't move she screamed at him, “I said go, just go!”

Daryl turned and stalked out, slamming the door behind him, regretting it instantly, but filled with too much pride to go back. She'd never screamed at him like that before. He was frightened he would not be able to fix this. She was purposefully shutting him out, and he didn't know why...or maybe he did. His heart caught on something she had said earlier about not wanting to feel love anymore, and it devastated him. He lost his chance with her before he knew he had one.

Daryl sat out on her front porch and dejectedly watched her through the window. He longed to go to her, but he didn't. He vaguely hoped she might come and find him but she never did.

He saw Carol sit with her head in the crook of her arm crying, until the timer went off for the cakes. She flipped off the radio and wrapped up the cakes neatly setting them in a row. She wiped the counter and cleaned the dishes and stacked them into on orderly pile, and then meticulously dried them, putting them away individually. She undid the ties on her apron and hung it gently on a hook.

He watched her turn off the light and go to bed. When the house went dark, he lingered, then made his way home. He would try to make this up to her, and he would fix things somehow. They always worked out their problems, or at least that's what he told himself so that he could finally drift off to sleep.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I miss Caryl. :(

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -So, this fic was technicallly done. It was meant to show a plausible reason Daryl & Carol were distant in 6B...but EFF THAT. I don't want them to be distant
> 
> -So I added this
> 
> -Enjoy

Daryl leaned up against the side of the house and watched her.

Carol was smiling her fake smile and passing out cake to people. She was talking to everyone so jovially. She was laughing, now, and she touched on a big fella’s arm playfully. Daryl stiffened.

He could see in her eyes she was sad. Watched her cry her eyes out the night before through the window. He knew this was all part of the show that she had been orchestrating for so long. Why couldn’t anyone else see it?

Daryl did not want to be at the gathering, but he wanted to see her, and see if he could fix things. He was out of ideas, and he was heartbroken that she was pushing him away. He half wished that he’d followed though with whatever she wanted. Hell, he wanted the same thing. His conscience had gotten the better of him but when had that ever helped him out. When had doing the right thing ever gotten him anywhere?

The guy Carol was talking to was looking at Carol in a way that Daryl did not like. He pulled an object from her hair, a leaf or something too small to see from where Daryl was and they both laughed. It made Daryl sick.

Carol gave him a piece of cake.

“I made that cake you fucking asshole,” Daryl said under his breath.

Daryl made no move to go over, he was still trying to think of what to say or do.

Carol looked up right at him, and then looked away quickly.

Daryl was even more irritated now that she had seen him. She went back to talking and joking with that man. Touching him absently, smiling a huge fake smile, and of course laughing like he was the funniest thing ever.

Glenn walked up, “Hey Daryl, you coming over?”

Daryl was surprised. He had been lost in his thoughts, “Haven’t decided yet.”

“It’s fun,” Glenn coaxed, “Carol made cake...”

“I fucking hate cake,” Daryl growled.

“Jeez,” Glenn said looking where Daryl was looking, “Just go up and talk to her, man.”

Daryl grumbled, but didn’t respond.

Glenn just shook his head, “It’s Carol. Just tell her.”

Daryl squinted at Glenn, “What do you know about anything?”

“Carol is talking to that guy over there and it’s killing you,” Glenn said holding up a hand to silence Daryl, “You can deny it, but we all know. I would have never said anything before, but I’ve learned that sometimes you don’t get another chance. She loves you.”

Daryl looked away. He trusted Glenn, but it was hard for him to accept what he was saying. Glenn patted him on the shoulder, and continued walking over to the gathering. Daryl watched as he walked straight over to Carol and graciously took a piece of cake from her. She said something to him, and he said something back. Daryl felt a bit worried about what they were saying but it wasn’t like Glenn to meddle.

Glenn turned to that man and said something to him and then walked off together, leaving Carol alone. He saw her face fall, and she wrung her hands nervously for a moment before composing herself and plastering on the fake smile again.

Daryl decided he better move while she was not around anyone for a moment. Maybe he could get her to talk with him later, or maybe he could apologize. He was so confused about everything that happened between them. He didn’t care as long as he could make it right again. He felt utterly helpless when things weren’t right between them.

He came up behind her, acknowledging her in a low voice, “Carol.” She turned around obviously startled, and a thin smile stretched taut across her face.

“I’m sorry fer what happened last night,” Daryl said quickly, everything spilling out quickly before he lost his nerve or she made him go.

“I don’t really want to talk about this, Daryl,” she said sharply.

“Please, talk to me,” Daryl said. He could hear the panic creeping into his own voice and it embarrassed him. He didn’t like how vulnerable he always felt around her.

“I think we should keep our distance from one another from now on,” Carol said, having difficulty looking into his eyes, “It’s for the best.”

“Why?” Daryl asked, now fully panicking that he was losing her, “What have I done that is making ya hate me so much?”

“I don’t hate you,” Carol said quietly without looking at him, “I just can’t be around you anymore.”

“Please,” Daryl said, touching her arm, “Let me come over to your house tonight and we can talk.”

“Hello there,” said a male voice.

Daryl looked up to see that man Carol had been talking to standing beside him. Carol looked up at him in a sickeningly sweet way that made Daryl’s stomach drop.

The man extended a hand, “Hi, my name is Tobin.”

Daryl grunted at him, and left the hand hanging midair.

“Is this man bothering you?” Tobin asked Carol.

“I ain’t bothering her,” Daryl said squaring up to him, “If you know what is smart you will go back where ya came from.”

Tobin took a defensive posture, and Carol stepped between, “Tobin, he’s not bothering me. He looks tough but he’s really a kitten. I don’t need your help.”

Daryl glared at Carol.

“He just wants a piece of cake. Here you go, Daryl, have some cake.” She handed him a plate.

“I don’t want any fucking cake,” Daryl said in a low growl, putting the plate back onto the table.

“Just eat the cake,” Carol challenged stepping into him.

Daryl licked his lips. He was so filled with anger and frustration. The tension in their relationship was too much. People were starting to look at them, which was making him feel very stressed out, but despite this all he wanted to do suddenly was kiss her.

Something in Daryl’s eyes made Carol relent and she felt sorry for him suddenly and sighed. She placed a gentle hand on his arm, and looked him in the eyes. He saw Carol in there – his Carol. She said softly, “Come over tonight. We’ll talk.”

“Okay,” Daryl said, relieved.

He looked smugly at Tobin, and turned to go.

“If you need me to protect you from that redneck asshole-” Tobin began and was all Daryl heard before he spun on his heel headed right for him. Daryl shoved Tobin hard, and the man staggered back a few feet.

“I would never,” he said shoving him again for emphasis, “hurt Carol!” Daryl got right in his face and said, “I can’t say the same for you.”

Everyone was looking over at the scene they were making now. Daryl could see Glenn in his peripheral vision coming to no doubt diffuse the situation. As far as he was concerned this guy only had to give him one reason.

Tobin gave him that reason. He took a swing at Daryl. Daryl dodged the hit and landed his own square on his jaw, putting the man on his ass. Daryl lunged forward, but he heard Carol’s voice as he grabbed his shirt collar, “Daryl, stop.” He was furious, and all he wanted to do at the moment was to take out all of his anger on this Tobin, but he dropped him on the ground.

His breathing was heavy as he was trying to figure out what to do, and Glenn put a calming hand on his shoulder, “It’s not worth it.” He shrugged Glenn’s hand and stalked off, not even looking at Carol.

 

Daryl made his way to Carol’s house to wait for her, not really sure if she would accept him, but he didn’t have anyone else to go to. This scared him more than he wanted to admit. She was the only person who he felt understood him, and she was slipping through his fingers. He sat on the porch for awhile, but he was tired of people looking at him as they walked by so eventually he let himself into her house.

Time passed slowly and she was gone for a lot longer than he thought she would be. In fact, he was starting to become concerned that she wouldn’t come back. He started thinking about that man, and what if she was out with him, comforting him, or worse. The more his mind raced the more he was upset.

He found himself wandering in the kitchen as daylight sank away. Despair was winning out when it got dark and she still wasn’t home. He dug through her cupboards and found the bottle of rum. He knew he shouldn’t drink it but he had to stop his mind. He sat down on the couch with the bottle and a glass and waited, and waited, and waited. By the time he heard the doorknob turn he has lost count of his shots.

Carol was surprised to see him on the couch. She looked from him to the bottle, and back to him and raised an eyebrow. “You shouldn’t break into my house, Daryl.” she said evenly. Glenn had gone off looking for him after the incident but couldn’t find him and now she knew why.

“I just needed to talk to ya, that’s all,” Daryl said.

“Alright, I’m here,” Carol said, putting down some boxes and sitting next to him on the sofa, “Let’s talk.”

“Are ya mad at me?” Daryl said, “For punching that asshole?”

Carol laughed, “Of course not. He kind of deserved it, don’t you think?”

Daryl nodded, and sat up, but he felt dizzy and rested his head on her shoulder. She stroked his hair, and it felt nice to him. “Carol,” he said and got up the courage to ask the thing he needed to know, “Do you love me?”

“Yes,” Carol said without thinking about it, “Did you doubt that?”

“Dunno,” Daryl said, and it didn’t make him feel much better because it still didn’t get to the heart of the problem.

“I’m just going to flat out say it,” Carol said, “I try with you, and you push me away. I feel like I’m dealing with a scared cat sometimes. If I move really slowly I can get close to you, but then you still run away at the last second. I’m tired of trying. It hurts.”

“Sorry,” Daryl mumbled his face was still buried in her shoulder.

“Don’t you trust me?” Carol asked.

Daryl lifted up his head, and looked at her, “Ya make me nervous when ya get close,” the words were coming much easier from the liquid courage, but it was still hard, “But when that guy talked to you, or when anyone talks to you like that, I get mad. No, I get scared, frustrated. It’s too much to explain why I am why I am”

“Do you love me?” Carol asked.

Daryl nodded, struggling with the inadequacy of his words, “Love ya more than anythin’.”

Carol took his hand, and he squeezed it.

“I didn’t mean to hurt yer feelings last night. You were drinking, and you were upset. The timing wasn’t good,” Daryl tried to explain.

“The timing is never good,” Carol shrugged.

Daryl leaned in and did what he knew he should have done a long time ago. He kissed her, tasting her lips as he brushed his hand across her cheek. He was so infatuated with the idea of being able to run his hand through her hair that it went there immediately, and he stroked her curls softly. He was overwhelmed with emotions that he’d been working hard to hide. He pulled back.

Carol looked at him, waiting for him to try to flee, and although he dropped his gaze he didn’t drop has hand. He was lightly playing with her hair at the back of her neck. She wanted to wrap her arms around him but she gave him time.

Daryl spoke in a low, gentle voice that he only used only for her, “I’ve never been in love before.”

Carol put her palm up to his cheek, touching his scruff, and lifting his chin so he looked at her. He leaned into her hand, craving her touch, wanting every bit of her. She ran her hand back through his hair and pulled his head to hers kissing him softly, loving the way he melted into it like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Carol wrapped both arms around him pulling him to her, and he tentatively placed his hands on her slight waist, and pulled her closer. The way he touched her was more gentle than Carol had ever been touched, like he was afraid of breaking her. He let his fingers slide up under her shirt, just a little. She broke the kiss, and nodded at him, “It’s okay.”

Daryl was glad it was okay, because all he wanted to do was have more of her. Carol pushed him back onto the padded arm of the sofa, and surprised him by taking off her shirt, and throwing it to the side.

“Yer so beautiful,” Daryl said in a low voice. He wanted her to possess him completely, but he also wanted to keep looking at her. Trying to decide what to do next was the most exciting kind of torture.

Carol blushed and leaned down to meet his lips. Her fingers fumbled with the buttons on his shirt.

Daryl ran his hands up her back, “I want ya.”

“I want you, too,” Carol said before kissing him hard, “Take off your shirt.”

Now Daryl blushed, and put his hands over his face.

“Daryl, I’ve seen you with your shirt off,” Carol said.

“Yer so bossy,” Daryl said, laughing as he sat up

“I’ve been waiting a long time, Daryl,” she said raising her eyebrows.

“We doin’ this?” he asked, smiling.

“Do you want to stop?”

“Hell, no.” Daryl said, and then scooped her up into his arms, and he carried her into the bedroom, toeing the door closed behind them.

 

“Good morning, handsome” Carol said leaning down and giving Daryl a kiss on the cheek. She was already up, and about.

“Why are ya already up?” Daryl asked, grabbing her around the legs and pulling her back into bed. She fell on him and he grunted.

She giggled, “I made us a little breakfast.”

Daryl could smell it and was instantly starving. He never had any dinner the night before. He thought if this was another perk of being with her he was the luckiest man in the world. She looked beautiful in her little nightgown with her tousled hair sparkling in the sunlight.

Their first time together had been clumsy and passionate, but in a lot of ways it fit their relationship perfectly. The second time had been more slow and subdued which fit them as well. Daryl had tried to learn everything about Carol. He wanted to memorize her.

“I’m hungry, but… I want ya more than food right now.” He pulled down the strap of her nightie and began kissing her shoulder.

“Daryl,” she scolded. He was very observant man, already found her weaknesses.”We have a lot to do today. People will be here soon.”

“Don’t care,” Daryl said pulling her close, and nuzzling his face into her neck, “I’ll tell ‘em to go away.”

Carol peeled herself away from him and stood up, despite Daryl’s pleading eyes, “Get dressed. I’ll be downstairs.” and he watched her sashay away.

“Yer bossy!” Daryl shouted after her. He sank into the bed feeling warm and happy.

 

Daryl came downstairs dressed, with wet hair.

“Shower?” she asked, as she was drying a dish.

“Cold shower,” Daryl confirmed, wrapping his arms around her.

Carol laughed, “You are awfully affectionate, this morning.”

“Mmhmm,” Daryl agreed, kissing her neck playfully.

“I didn’t expect you to be so – I don’t know – huggy and kissy,” Carol said.

Daryl pulled back, “Is that bad?”

Carol turned around and saw him frowning at her, she touched his cheek, “I love it. It’s a happy surprise.”

Daryl dropped his chin and his lip curled into a sideways smile. He was happy she was pleased with him. She handed him a plate with a muffin and some apple slices, and he mumbled his thanks and sat down at the table. He ate it all quickly, she was amazing baker and he appreciated that about her so much. He felt so much pride that she would have him.

“I need to go get dressed before Olivia gets here,” Carol said taking a little bite of a muffin. She hadn’t even sat down yet. She poured them each a cup of coffee, and brought Daryl his.

“Sit down for a minute,” Daryl said.

“Can’t. I am already running late.”

Daryl was dismayed that he was going to have to go to his daily schedule soon. It felt like the should get a moment to stop and relax, but it was back to the tired routine, “What fuckin’ good is the end of civilization if we still got so much shit to do?”

Carol laughed, “Rebuilding civilization is tough work.”

Daryl grumbled, and as he got up to take care of his dishes there was a knock at the door.

“Can you get it?” Carol said, “I need to change still.”

Daryl went to answer her door, and Tobin was leaning against the door frame.

“Can I help ya?” Daryl asked.

Tobin was taken back, and looked Daryl up and down. He had the presence of mind to take a step back away from the door, he mumbled, “I was going to see if Carol was alright. Is she here? I’d rather talk to Carol.”

Carol, hearing Tobin’s voice, was already headed to the door to stop an altercation. She was tying up her robe as she approached the door, “Hey, I’m fine, as you can see. I think it’s probably best if you could go, though.”

Daryl spoke up, “Naw, I wanna know by what manner and means he was gonna protect ya if ya weren’t fine.”

“Don’t be mean, Daryl,” Carol said smiling, “Don’t worry, Tobin, Daryl was here to protect me all night.”

Daryl smirked.

“Just making sure you were okay, was all,” Tobin said sheepishly. He turned and walked away.

Daryl closed the door and chuckled.

“Look how smug you look,” Carol said wrapping her arms around him.

“He’s an asshole,” Daryl said, pulling her close.

“He is,”Carol confirmed.

She stood up on her tip toes, and met Daryl’s lips to hers. She knew the troubles would come, and the pain and sadness of the world was all around them, but in this moment she felt happy and safe in his arms.

**The End.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this. There was definitely a fair amouth of wish fulfillment in this. Tobin getting what he deserves, haha. I think he's such a creep.

**Author's Note:**

> ...so...sorry. It didn't end happy. I might make kind of a prologue at the community gathering, but I can't decide if I want to, because since it can't be happy, I'm not sure if I want to sink into more depressing moments between them.
> 
> \---Oh, by my calculations it has been about 500 days since Sophia's death I had to research that...
> 
> If Daryl and Carol have canon middle names I do not know them, but this is what I did.
> 
> The canon house set up is I'm pretty sure seperate but I think people live with them so I am not sure how all that shouting didn't wake anyone...let's just go with it though.
> 
> Oh yeah, and the drink symbolism. Daryl takes away the rum from Carol and it breaks (symbolism of the mask falling) and she can't hide from him anymore but she is embarassed. I don't go through a lot of Carol's emotions becasue she is erratic and feeling everything at once, trying to hide from hin. She hid what happened with Morgan and other things. At first I had Daryl just act sad about it, but then I decided to have him fight back.


End file.
